Halloween Eve
by forever fan
Summary: Is the mysterious woman at a Halloween party a trick or a treat for the Professor?


**Title: Halloween Eve**

**Author: Forever Fan**

**Rating: T**

**Spoilers: The Flower Children; Nanny and Her Witches' Brew**

**Category: Romance/Supernatural**

**Disclaimer: This property belongs to David Gerber Productions and FOX Television.**

**I make no profit and intend no infringement. **

**Summary: Is the mysterious woman at a Halloween party a trick or a treat for the Professor? **

**Feedback: Yes, please**

The invitation for the Halloween party read as follows: "Halloween Fun for the Whole Family! Tricks! Treats! Prizes galore for kids, teens and adults! Wear your scariest, funniest or most original costume! Special prize to the guy or ghoul who can conceal their identity till the end of the night! Where: Campus Recreation Center. When: Halloween Eve, Saturday, October 30th 6pm - ?"

Harold Everett dropped the orange and black card back on the refreshment table and sighed. Halloween marked the beginning of the holiday season, something he hadn't particularly enjoyed since his wife's death. He remembered she had always made this time of year special and participating in holiday events, from Halloween through New Year's, still had a slight cast of melancholy for him. But he wanted to be a good sport for his children, and these parties were for children. Unfortunately, they were also for adults accompanying their children. Participation of parents was expected, including wearing a costume, and concealing your identity was supposed to be half of the fun.

Many of the faculty had come as a literary or a superhero characters and he had chosen to dress as Zorro. Actually, the costume had been chosen for him by Nanny – complete with Andalusian hat, satin cape, fringe sash, black pants and boots and a fencing sword – courtesy of Butch. His black gauze shirt was partially unlaced showing more chest hair than was strictly respectable. That hadn't been his idea either. He was grateful for the cowl mask covering much of his face - maybe he would go unrecognized by most of the partygoers this evening.

Looking over the crowded recreation hall, he saw there were games ranging from pin-the-tail-on-the-ghost for the littlest ones to scary stories for the older kids to spin-the-spider-in-the-bottle for teenagers. There were even charades and card games set up for adults as well as dancing. As common at these functions, there was more food and drink than necessary and the Professor was hovering around the mildly spiked punch bowl. With a smile he watched his kids: a vampire, a zombie, and a princess respectively, having a wonderful time. Nanny was also keeping a close eye on the children as she shuttled between the kitchen and the refreshments table. He had no doubt that her participation in the party preparations was why there was so much good food and so much entertainment to keep everyone happy. When Nanny did something, she certainly did it with style, thoroughness and consideration for everyone involved.

Watching as she disappeared back into the kitchen, the Professor wondered how she could maneuver through the crowd in her bulky head-to-toe bunny costume – with big, floppy ears and a fluffy white tail. Only the long eyelashes and large, pink bow around her neck distinguished her as a female bunny. Earlier as she had drawn on his cheesy Zorro moustache with her eyeliner pencil, he teased that she should have worn one of those short-skirted, cocktail bunny girl outfits with black mesh stockings instead. Her cheeks then stained a becoming pink that matched the color of her made-up rabbit nose.

Continuing to watch the crowd, the Professor noted modesty did not restrict many of the women in their choice of costume for the night. A cute, little witch in a tight black dress was practically staring at him, and he knew for a fact she was married. Another woman in a French maid costume was smiling at him coquettishly, but she didn't quite do justice to her mesh stockings as would the legs he'd have preferred to see on display tonight. Then he saw a shapely fairy in a skimpy costume start to make her way across the room towards him. He was aware of many of the appreciative looks he was attracting and was certain being in masquerade gave some of those women the courage to eye him so boldly. Casting his glance down at his drink, he wondered how he could avoid these attentions graciously and somehow make his way out of the room without attracting anyone's notice.

There was a mild commotion and the Professor looked up to see a petite woman in an elaborate genie costume enter the party. It seemed as if every eye had turned in her direction: the men in admiration and the women in envy. She had waist length black hair and heavy, dramatic make-up that gave her eyes a distinctive feline look. The rest of her face was covered with a white, opaque scarf and in fact, she appeared to be surrounded by long, flowing, pastel colored scarves laced with minute bells. Like an Arabian dancer prepared to perform "The Dance of the Seven Veils" she wore tiny cymbals on her fingers and bells around her ankles above the flat, gold slippers on her feet. Her dark blue silk fitted blouse had long sleeves that nearly covered her hands, but it left her midriff bare. Both the blouse and harem pants were trimmed with gold brocade and beads and a gold coin belt rested low on her shapely hips. In her navel a sapphire colored jewel winked provocatively. The sound of dozens of small tinkling bells followed her as she made her way into the room.

"Genie!" someone called. "Where's your master?" Everyone laughed and the mysterious woman turned towards the man and shook her head. She raised her arms and took a few dancing steps, twirling and sending her veils flying.

"Dance for us," another man called, this one dressed as Superman. "We would all love to see you dance."

Again the beauty shook her head, but her graceful movements, tinkling bells and twirling scarves were already a dance.

"Then dance with me," a costumed Shakespeare stepped up to her and someone turned the music louder. He held his arms out and the genie took his hand, dancing within his light embrace. The crowd watched the couple, and even the children seemed mesmerized.

Others began to dance, but the Professor found he couldn't take his eyes off of the lithe genie. The fairy that had been making her way across the room towards him finally reached him.

Raising her arms to him, she asked, "Shall we?"

"Certainly," he placed his glass of punch on the table and began to dance with the fairy. As he did, he noticed a scarecrow had cut in on Shakespeare and was dancing with the lovely genie.

"Charming, isn't she?" the fairy remarked, following the Professor's line of sight.

"Yes, Marge," he agreed, "she is."

"Do you know who she is?" His companion was watching him and not the other woman.

"No, but she does look familiar."

"Like the actress on that television show?"

"No," he sounded lost in thought, "no, not like her at all."

"Well," Marge eyed the genie as she passed them with yet another dance partner, this time Frankenstein, "I'll certainly excuse you if you'd like to dance with her. It seems she'll be making her way through all of the men here tonight."

Professor Everett smiled down at her. "Sorry Marge. I didn't mean to be rude. How have you been?"

"I've been…around," she replied airily, "which is more than I can say for you. You disappeared weeks ago in a…" She followed his glance again as his followed the genie, "…a puff of smoke?"

"What? Oh." With effort he looked away from the genie's curves and returned his attention to Marge. "Ah, no, I told you, I don't know her."

Both of them watched as Frankenstein was replaced by a wizard in a tall hat. The genie twirled gracefully showing her small waist as her coin belt tinkled and her veils fluttered around her. The genie's eyes met the Professor's briefly before she was whisked away.

"Hmmm," Marge observed, "well, she looked right at you. Maybe she has a thing for men with swords and moustaches?"

"Maybe." He studied the genie's movements. Something in the curve of her hips and the slope of her waist was tugged at his memory. And the way she moved…the scarves made it difficult to see all of her – charms – but the shape of her arms and the tilt of her head...

"She is lovely," Marge broke his concentration, "from what you can see of her. She's a tiny little thing and fair skinned for having such black hair." She winked up at him. "Unless she's wearing a wig."

"A wig?" The Professor looked at the genie again. The music ended and there was a pause before the next song began. "A wig?" he thought to himself. "Maybe she had short brown hair, or was a redhead, or maybe she was a fair-skinned blond…?"

"Wondering who she is?" His fairy dancing partner continued to move with him as the music started again and he automatically followed along. They both watched the enticing genie as she was led through another dance by the scarecrow again. She passed close to them, and the scarecrow was talking to her. The genie shook her head at him, black hair sliding over her shoulders, bells tinkling. The Professor was hypnotized by her poise, her sinuous movements and her light step. Each turn she took put her scarves in motion revealing and then concealing creamy skin. She was intoxicating to watch.

"Maybe she is the woman you've been waiting for."

That remark caught the Professor's attention and he looked at Marge with a sharp turn of his head. Her pretty face wasn't easy to read, but he sensed she was hiding hurt or possibly anger.

"I wasn't aware I was waiting for anyone," he told her.

"Well, I think you are," she glanced at the genie again. "And it certainly isn't me. When I told you that you and ecology were my pet projects this semester, I didn't expect you to be gone before I'd finished passing out all of my bumper stickers."

"Marge…" he began, preparing to apologize.

"Oh, you don't have to explain. We had some nice times, but it was clear I wasn't your type." She shrugged, "Family, hearth, home and all that jazz. Still, I thought we were having fun."

"We were. It's just things came up at home and I…"

"Sunday football games, working on the drought issue, entertaining visitors from out-of-town…" she trailed off.

He stopped dancing and dropped his hands to his sides. Professor Everett's eyes narrowed as he questioned her, "How did you know about all of that?"

"Word gets around," she smiled at him, "it's a small town. That's why I can't help but wonder who she is." Marge cocked her head towards the dancing genie. "Maybe she's your fantasy girl. Maybe it's her name you whispered in my ear."

The Professor flushed under his mask, grateful she couldn't see much of his face. The brief time he and Marge were together had been enjoyable, but it didn't take him long to realize it was a mistake. He had liked her and was attracted to her certainly, but continuing the way they had begun was impossible.

Embarrassed he hesitated, unsure of what to say.

"It's o.k." Marge said, lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, "it's a good thing I'm not thin-skinned. It was just one of those things. Still," she batted her eyelashes at him and moved closer to toy with the laces on his shirt, "I'd like to know who my competition was – I'd like to see the woman who can distract a man when he's in my arms. And so far, that genie seems to be doing a good job of it."

Exasperated he repeated, "I don't know her."

"Then maybe you should meet. Even Superman must be getting tired by now." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Ciao."

Professor Everett looked after Marge then turned his attentions back to the newcomer. The charming genie was now resting near the refreshment table, several men flanking her and firing questions. Moving closer it was obvious the genie wouldn't answer and was shaking her head to the accompaniment of many tinkling bells.

"Come on, tell us who you are." Superman was cajoling. A shake of her head: "no".

"Do you live in the neighborhood?" Shakespeare asked. "In town?" he continued. She didn't respond.

"Do you work at the University?" asked the wizard. After a moment, she shook her head: "no".

Watching the exchange the Professor's gaze settled on the woman. After a moment, as if sensing his presence, she gave him a quick glance then deliberately turned her back to him. Frowning, he was attempting to make his way around the table to get a closer look at her when he was accosted by a tiny princess.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Prudence threw herself at him and clutched him around his waist. "Can I bob for apples Daddy? Please?"

"Of course you can, Darling," he told her patting her shining hair. He was still watching the genie surreptitiously.

"But Nanny told me someone would have to watch me so I wouldn't fall into the tub or get too wet," the little girl told him.

"What? Oh, well," the Professor looked down at his daughter's enthusiastic expression. Then he glanced around the room, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Where is Nanny?"

"I don't know, Daddy. Last time I saw Nanny she was helping to make spiced cider in the kitchen, but she's not there now. Will you watch me, Daddy?" Prudence's eyes were shining with excitement.

"All right, Darling, all right," he allowed himself to be led away from the table and the cornered genie. Scanning the room for Nanny, he could find no adult sized bunny rabbit, and in fact saw no rabbit costumes in the room at all. Slowly the Professor realized he hadn't seen her or her costume once since the genie had arrived at the party. He turned to look at the petite genie again – no – he shook his head – it couldn't be –

Arriving at the apple bob he was surprised to see his oldest son talking to the teenaged Wonder Woman in charge of the game.

"Hey, Dad," the boy said, his voice sounding deeper than usual.

"Hey, Hal," his father gestured at Prudence as she intently watched the older children kneeling in front of a tub full of water. "Will you watch your sister and make sure she doesn't fall head first into that tub of apples? I have something I need to do."

"Sure Dad," Hal answered with a terminally cool attitude, "no problemo."

"Thanks." Professor Everett turned with the intention of returning to the refreshment table when out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of blue silk disappear through a side door. The exotic genie had made her escape from the party to the garden.

Hurrying after her, he took one last glance through the crowd in search of a white rabbit with floppy ears and a fluffy tail.

XXXXXXXXX

The garden was empty. It had rained earlier in the evening and the dampness kept everyone indoors. There was a cool wind, but it was pleasant after the close stuffiness of the party. As the Professor's eyes adjusted to the dimness, he could see no one and felt his disappointment rising. Then there was a slight movement to his right, beyond a hedge, and he heard the soft sound of bells tinkling. Stepping around the hedge, he saw the genie there, scarves gently moving in the breeze, her face veiled and her eyes in shadow.

"There you are," he said softly, "I…I didn't get to meet you at the party. We never had the opportunity to dance."

She was watching him and for a moment didn't respond. Then she nodded her head briefly, accompanied by light bells.

"You are a marvelous dancer," he told her, moving closer. "I was watching you with the others – you seemed to be having a good time."

She stepped back, eyes on him and again nodded. More gentle bells sounded.

"Won't you come back in and dance with me?"

The genie shook her head.

The Professor took another step towards her. "Why not? You saw me on the dance floor. I'm not such a bad dancer, am I?" he teased.

Again, she shook her head.

"Then come back in and join me."

Another shake of her head and more bells tinkled.

He sighed. "I heard the others asking you questions, trying to find out who you are. You didn't answer. Will you tell me?"

The beautiful elusive genie was looking at him, but the cloudy, moonless October sky provided no light for him to look into her face or to see her shadowed eyes. She was silent a long moment then shook her head no again.

"You know, there is a prize for the person who can conceal their identity until the end of the party. I don't know what the prize is, but I'd say you are a forerunner contender to win it." He smiled at her taking another step closer, pausing when she stepped back again.

"I won't hurt you," he said raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I can assure you this sword is merely a decoration." Touching the hilt lightly he continued, "It's a toy that belongs to my son." When she didn't respond he went on, "I'm here tonight with my two sons, my daughter, and…our nanny. I don't think I have a chance of winning the prize for concealing my identity despite this penciled on moustache." He waited, watching her carefully. "Do you know who I am?"

She made no move to indicate "yes" or "no", but the gentle breeze lifted her scarves in motion and set her bells tinkling again. He thought he picked up her light scent in the air, but it might have been the remnants of late fall flowers in the garden.

"You do know me, don't you?" the Professor asked. "You know my name, what I do, who my children are…" He paused, considering her. "You know me and can see through this disguise, all of my disguises, can't you? You always could."

Nodding slightly, the genie stepped back again.

"That puts me at a disadvantage, doesn't it? You knowing who I am and my still being here – in the dark – about you? Won't you tell me something – say your name?"

She shook her head, forcefully this time, posing as if to turn away or to flee.

"Wait!" He reached a hand forward. "I do know you. Am I right in recognizing you? Is it possible I know more about you – than I think I do?" Catching her wrist he felt her trembling. Grasping at something to say to make her stay awhile longer he said, "Don't genies grant three wishes to the one who finds them and sets them free?"

Tentatively, she nodded.

"So, as I've found you, will you grant me my wishes?" She made no response as he stepped towards her and drew her to him. Resisting slightly, she allowed him to slide his hands up her arms to cup her shoulders, and then allowed him to press her slender body against his chest. She was very soft and felt warm in his arms despite the chill in the air around them.

His face close to her veiled one he whispered, "First, I wish you to say your name. Second, I wish you to be the woman I know you to be. And third, I wish you to allow me to set you free."

Her head tipped back to gaze up at him but she said nothing. Slowly she moved her head from side to side.

Holding her closer the Professor bent his head to speak softly into her ear. "You have been a mystery to me since the day we met – without benefit of veils or silence – but as many secrets as you keep I know there is one you long to share with me." The thick, dark hair tickled his nose and he swept the heavy locks over her shoulder. His breath was heated against her neck and he felt her shiver moments before his lips touched the tender skin where her neck met her shoulder. Gently his mouth pulled at the flesh there.

She moaned but the sound was so low in her throat it gave no clear clue to her identity except to reveal she was a woman full of desire. Gliding his hands down her narrow back, he felt the gooseflesh of her exposed midriff and rested his large hands on the curve of her hips. Another breeze blew silken scarves around them and her face veil lifted.

"Ah," he sighed as he reached for the veil that covered her face, but she stopped his hand. Too dark to see each other's eyes, they still stared at one another in the shadows.

"Say your name," he repeated his plea in a whisper.

A slight shake of her head again, then she turned so her face was in even deeper shadows. Understanding, he felt her hand drop from his as he brushed her veil away and found her lips with his own. The heat of her mouth was surprising and overwhelming. She tasted sweet and dark like mysterious, exotic fruit, yet at the same time invitingly familiar and completely feminine. He deepened the kiss and felt her slender fingers clutch his shoulders under the ridiculous cape he wore. His fingers dug into the yielding flesh of her shifting hips while pressing their bodies closer. He felt an urgent ache rising inside of him and the kiss turned dangerous.

Gasping, the Professor said again, "Please, say your name."

The genie's head dropped forward and her brow rested against his chest. She shook her head again but made no move to escape from him. He contented himself with devouring her silent lips while moving his hands over her in a possessive caress. Stroking her hair and her arms, smoothing both hands over her back and her hips he was amazed as she matched his desire with her own hungry touch. Her small hands were warm over his chest and across his broad back, her arms encircling him to embrace him tightly. Unable to see her, he nuzzled the soft skin of her cheeks, her jaw and beneath her chin as if his sensitive mouth could discern her features and tease out her identity.

"Say your name," he moaned between kisses, groaning as she kissed the tender hollow of his throat. Whoever this passionate woman was, he was certain he had never met her in daylight, never known her even in the dark places where he had been with other lovers. This woman belonged to him in pure fantasy – she was perfect – she was magic – she was loving and honest in his arms even if she never spoke her name or granted him his dearest wishes.

"You know me," his deep voice whispered, "and I know you." He felt her slight startle at his words, and then she fell still in his arms. Cradling her face in his hands he conspired, "I've held you a hundred times, a thousand times, in my mind and in my dreams." Tracing one finger over her moist lips he continued, "I've kissed you more times than I can count, in my fantasies and in my daydreams." Holding her closer, so close she couldn't break away, he told her, "I've said your name, called out for you so many times in my heart, and once, in the arms of a woman I thought I could care for if I couldn't have you."

The Professor knew her lips were parted, perhaps in surprise, perhaps just to receive his kisses, and he knew she was watching his face. The darkness disguised his features as surely as the cowl mask he still wore, yet he knew, somehow…

"Say my name," he said so softly no one but the two of them could have heard the words. "Say my name," he repeated, "just once."

This time he didn't expect a reply and kissed her until they were both weak and breathless. His hunger and desperation made them lightheaded, clinging to the masquerade of darkness that was both concealing and revealing them to one another.

There was a rustling sound in the darkness. "Dad?"

They broke apart and the lithe genie pulled away and disappeared into the shadows. He stared after her, rooted to the ground as if unable to go after her, the sound of soft bells lingering in the air behind her.

"Dad?" Hal repeated, appearing at his shoulder. "We were all worried about you. What are you doing out here?"

"Ah…nothing," he mentally roused himself and turned to face his son.

"Are you ready to leave? The kids are tired and I'm pretty bored." They headed to the door and the Professor was surprised to find how cold the night had turned.

"What happened to Wonder Woman?" his father asked, attempting to steady his voice.

Hal shrugged. "She ran off with some cowboy…a senior."

"Oh," he replied with a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Sorry."

His son shrugged again as they entered the warm interior of the recreation center. The Professor noticed the crowd had thinned considerably. "Party over?" he asked.

Butch came up to them and answered his father's question. "Just broke up, Dad." He held up an Eagles album. "I won this for "Most Disgusting" costume!"

"Great," he replied with a smile. "Who won the prize for "Best Masquerade"?

"Well," Hal said, "that genie would have won, because nobody knew who she was, but she disappeared. So Nanny was the winner."

"Really?" The Professor's thoughts were spinning as he tried to hide his confusion and disappointment.

"Yeah," Butch filled in the details, "no one knew who she was all covered up head to toe in that rabbit costume. She didn't talk much so her accent wouldn't give her away."

"Oh," he looked around at the remaining party guests, "and where is she now?"

"She's been in the kitchen most of the night," Hal told him "Prudence went to find her."

"Yeah, the "Best Masquerade" prize is some sort of basket with wine and cheese and junk like that, so Nanny had to get it." Butch made a face. "I'm glad I got the album."

The door to the center's kitchen swung opened and a little princess in pink emerged with a five-foot-two-inch white rabbit carrying an oversized wicker basket.

"I hear you won the grand prize," the Professor said by way of greeting as he watched Nanny's expression closely.

"Oh yes," she replied shifting the heavy basket in her arms and not meeting his eyes. "It must have been the floppy ears that did the trick."

"Or the fluffy tail," he reached for the prize she held. Lifting the heavy basket he looked inside and remarked. "Whoa. Lots of goodies in here aren't there? Candies, cookies, crackers, cheese, wine…"

"Don't worry," she said smiling, "I'll share."

"Yay!" Prudence cheered.

"You already have enough of a candy haul," her father told her, "and there is Trick or Treat tomorrow night. Now gather all of your things and load up the car." As the kids moved ahead he turned back to Nanny and said sotto voce, "I still think the cocktail bunny costume…"

She gave him a warning sidelong look. He sighed.

"Well, maybe you are right. Those skimpy costumes have a way of concealing more than they reveal. That genie for instance…" Nanny looked up at him sharply, but the Professor pretended not to notice, "Maybe her real allure was her silence. A mute genie – or bunny – makes the mystery of identity complete. Don't you agree?"

She shrugged as she opened the door for him. "Perhaps. But there are ways to masquerade and create illusion when something is right under one's nose."

He smiled into the innocent blue eyes above her cute, pink bunny nose. "If anyone has mastered the art of concealment and evasion – it certainly would have to be you."

Nanny arched her brow at him, but didn't reply.

XXXXXXXXX

In spite of all of the excitement and all of the sugar, the kids headed straight upstairs barely managing to wash off their costume make-up before collapsing into bed. It had been a tiring evening, and as tomorrow was actually Halloween and they needed to rest up for door-to-door Trick or Treat.

Nanny saw the children to bed while the Professor deposited the "Best Masquerade" gift basket in the living room and the kids' candy bags in the kitchen. Then he returned to the foyer and removed his hat, mask, cape, sword and sash and left them all on the hall table. After exchanging his black boots for house slippers, he headed back into the living room to start a fire in the fireplace. He knew he would have trouble sleeping tonight if he didn't do something to unwind after the events at the party. A relaxing fire and maybe a glass of brandy might do the trick.

Once the fire was glowing warmly, he sat on one of the loveseats and contemplated his mysterious encounter in the garden. He had been certain it was Nanny. The "genie" was exactly her size, her figure, and he hadn't seen her or her bunny costume at all while the genie was dancing at the party. But had he really been paying close attention? Maybe it was Marge's reminder that he had whispered her name in Marge's ear that brought his feelings to the surface again. It was lucky Marge never knew, and never found out, Nanny's first name. He knew he had hurt Marge, or at least offended her, but it wasn't as if he had done it consciously.

The attraction he was always fighting – the fantasies and daydreams he was constantly resisting – did he merely convince himself the genie was Nanny? The woman in his arms tonight certainly fulfilled those fantasies. Her passion, her warmth, the way she had responded to his kisses, the taste of her kisses – it was all the way he had dreamed she would be. If it hadn't been Nanny, who could it have been? Who else could move him like that? Or was it because he had believed it was her that…

"Waiting for the stroke of midnight?" Nanny's gentle, musical voice broke into his reflection.

"What? Oh." Startled the Professor felt his cheeks warm as the object of his fantasy stood beside him in dressing robe and slippers. Her face was scrubbed clean of her bunny make-up. Soft hair fell full and loose over her shoulders, the gold strands gleaming in the firelight. The expression in her eyes was gentle, her half-smile amused.

"You look as if you are waiting for Trick or Treat," she said seating herself opposite him, a small table between them.

"I think I've had enough tricks, and treats, for tonight," he murmured not looking at her but staring into the fire instead.

She began to look through the wicker basket on the table. "Well, when I was a child, we used to wait up for the stroke of midnight on Halloween Eve – we were always allowed one treat – after the tricks had all been played, you understand."

"Ghost stories too, I assume," the Professor looked at her, smiling.

"Oh yes, some real spine tinglers. I have a few saved for the children tomorrow. Ah, here it is." She had removed the bottle of wine, two glasses and a corkscrew from the basket before finding the expensive looking bag of chocolates she had been seeking. "My favorites," she announced.

"You knew those particular chocolates would be in that basket?" he asked suspiciously. "And your favorites?"

"Well, I…no," Nanny stammered. "But I…I must have mentioned these chocolates as a suggestion for the gift basket to Mrs. Brown on the party committee. She…"

He raised his hand to stop her. "Don't explain. I'm sure there is a reasonable rationale in there somewhere." His doubtful look didn't match his words. The Professor reached for the wine bottle and corkscrew. "May I?"

She nodded and watched him a moment before turning towards the fire. "It certainly was a lovely evening," she said quietly.

He gazed at her beautiful, perfect profile before responding. "Yes," his gentle tone matched hers, "yes, it was. It still is." He poured fragrant red wine into a glass and handed it to her. "There is still time before midnight."

Raising her glass to his she toasted, "To Halloween Eve."

"To Tricks and Treats," he touched his full glass to hers and their look held. The Professor wondered again if she had been that seductive genie and what it meant if she had been. Did it mean she craved his kisses – but only behind a masquerade? Could she only allow him to sample her passion in a tiny sliver of time in a moonless garden on Halloween Eve? Would she always remain elusive? Would she always be a fantasy?

Nanny dropped her gaze first, taking a sip of wine. Setting her glass down, she reached for the bag of chocolates.

"These are very special candies – not to be shared with the children," she smiled impishly at him and her blue eyes sparkled, "but I will share them with you."

He smiled back. Often her playfulness was more than enough of a treat for him. "What should I do to warrant such an honor?" In a sing-song voice he said, "Hold out my hand and close my eyes and I shall get a big surprise?" At her puzzled look he explained: "That's an American expression."

"Oh, well, no…just open your mouth and close your eyes."

Doing so he heard paper rustling as she opened the bag, and his heart beat faster in the silence as he sensed her moving near to him. He felt her fingers lightly graze his lips as she dropped the candy into his mouth and he fought the impulse to seize her hand and kiss those fingers.

"Hmmm," the dark chocolate melted on his tongue spreading the warmth of Drambuie. Savoring the flavor of the liqueur he licked his lips and opened his eyes to find her leaning close to him, the look on her face entranced as she stared at his mouth.

"Your turn," the Professor said thickly reaching into the bag in her hand. Removing a candy he held it to her lips, pausing so she could open her mouth for the treat. Instead, she took the chocolate directly from his fingers, the light touch of her tongue grazing his thumb.

The rumble in his throat was nearly a growl. "The tradition must be Tricking and Teasing where you come from."

Nanny blushed deeply enough for him to see the change on her face in the flickering light from the fire. She straightened quickly. "I…It must be the wine," she stuttered, uncharacteristically flustered.

"You only had a sip."

"Then it must be the liqueur."

"From one candy?" The Professor stood up, feeling as if he was towering over her, and she took a step back. He was suddenly reminded of his tryst with the genie, her reluctance to let him near to her, his having to coax her as if she were frightened of him – frightened of what was between them.

"I want more," he said in his deep tenor voice. When he started to move towards her she held up the bag as if offering him another chocolate. He shook his head and grinned wickedly.

"Was that book correct? Are you a spell casting witch? Is everyone – every man – entirely in your power?" Continuing to move closer to her, the look in his eyes caused her to take another step away from him. "What was in that wine? That chocolate?"

Nanny held the bag of candy tightly between them as if it could ward off his advance. She had backed up far enough to be trapped against an arm chair. The Professor wasn't touching her, but was leaning near to her with a dangerous, masculine and temptingly familiar presence. She seemed to have no voice – a rarity not lost on him.

"Can't speak?" he asked. His voice was as rich as the melting chocolate on her tongue. "Neither could that genie tonight."

Her eyes flashed at him for one moment, then she side-stepped away from him as if to make her escape. He caught her hand causing her to drop the bag of candy. She seemed to struggle with him without making a move. Then he said:

"Say your name."

Moments passed and in his mind he heard the soft bells from the genie's costume. When Nanny turned to him she spoke in a voice he almost didn't recognize. Her tone was low and unbearably soft, a bedroom voice as alluring and smoky as the blue of her eyes.

"Maybe that book is correct. Are you a demon?" she asked. "Do you lure women with your mischievous charm and disarming gentleness?"

"Say my name."

She took a sharp breath. "Will that break the spell or will that naughty demon lead the unsuspecting on a path towards sin?"

"Unsuspecting?" The Professor raised his brow. "You may appear guileless but I don't believe for a moment you aren't aware of your power over me. You can continue to hide, to be evasive, to even trick and tease me, but you can't run from me – or yourself – forever."

They looked at one another a long time before Nanny spoke again in that tantalizingly intimate voice he had longed to hear. "It's almost midnight, almost Halloween. It's the day when the veil is lifted between the living and the dead, the seen and the unseen world."

"What a perfect place for us to be," he caressed the hand he held while gently urging her towards him. She came willingly, looking up at him as they stood close enough to touch, but not touching – he only holding her hand.

"There is a Halloween tradition that if you kiss someone through all twelve strokes of the clock at midnight – from Halloween Eve to Halloween – you'll be immune to any tricks and only receive treats the whole year through." The Professor's tone was light, but his craving gaze strayed to her lips.

"Is that true?" Nanny asked. He was surprised to hear the tremor in her voice.

"We can only find out through tests and experiments, data collection and empirical evidence…" His voice trailed off as the mantle clock began to chime midnight and his lips met hers. Her tender mouth tasted like melting dark chocolate and Chambord, and more faintly of wine. He felt her slip her arms around his neck and the warm press of her soft body beneath her dressing gown caused a sweet ache to spread through him. Pulling her closer the intensity of their kiss revealed the dark exotic taste of the genie – of her – and he realized for the second time tonight the inviting familiarity of her as he kissed her.

The clock stopped chiming but their yearning kiss continued. He began to caress her and she returned those caresses with her own fevered touch – just as she had in the garden. It had been her, hadn't it? He felt as if he had spoken the question aloud to her and from somewhere in his mind heard her voice answer: "Does it matter?"

The Professor was startled enough to break off the kiss. He found himself looking into eyes shining with laughter.

"How old is that Halloween kiss tradition?" Nanny asked him in an indulgent voice, her fingers tracing the faded penciled on moustache above his lips.

He covered his surprised reaction by bending his neck to kiss her behind her ear and answered in a warm whisper on her skin. "Oh, it dates back to right before midnight."

"I thought so!" She pulled away feigning annoyance. "It doesn't work. I kissed you from Halloween Eve to Halloween and I was hardly immune to your trick."

"You did receive a treat though." This time he kissed her lightly on the lips, tasting her lingering sweetness. "However, whether or not the treats last the whole year through depends on you."

Gently she moved out of his arms. Retrieving the bag of chocolates from the floor she handed them to him. "For you."

He took the bag and frowned. "I'd rather taste my chocolate – indirectly."

"There is always Christmas." Nanny smiled her mysterious smile and headed up the stairs.

The Professor watched her disappear to the second floor then looked at the bag of chocolates in his hand. Christmas Eve…New Year's Eve… With a Halloween Eve like this one, participating in holiday events now seemed to have a genuine joyful appeal. For the first time in a long while, he was looking forward to creating some new and very special warm and loving holiday season memories.

**Author's note: Thank you for reading. This story could be the beginning of a few holiday stories so I would like to know if any readers would be interested in my continuing this as a series. I appreciate any and all feedback. It would also be wonderful for any readers to contribute a story: with or without a holiday theme. I know I would love to read one and I promise to give feedback!**


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